


Permission

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me in," requests the vampire perched outside the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

> thefirstwhokneels from tumblr drew amazing fanart for this! ; o;
> 
> http://thefirstwhokneels.tumblr.com/post/34245502351/let-me-in-requests-the-vampire-perched-outside

“Let me in,” requests the vampire perched outside the window.

“I am not a fool,” Thor says flatly, and slides open the pane to splash holy water at the pale face.

It’s too dark for him to properly aim, but from the painful hiss and then rustling as the vampire leaves, Thor presumes he found his mark. He yanks the curtains shut and walks away to prepare himself for sleep.

But this is not the first time he and Loki have met.

 

. . .

“Let me in,” rasps the vampire sitting outside the window. There is a noticeable burn on the right side of his face, which Thor presumes to have been caused by the holy water. “I won’t hurt you,” the creature adds this time. “I promise.”

“I have a crucifix, too,” Thor tells him. He does. It sits on his desk, and every other room in the house has one, too. It’s a bad habit he acquired from his father, who, ironically, Thor used to think paranoid. Then one managed to sink their dagger-like fangs into his neck and Thor received the pleasure of having to drive a stake through his own father’s heart.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” the vampire says, tone too casual for Thor’s liking. “But let’s see here: I am badly injured, you have an arsenal of anti-vampire weapons at your disposal, and the sun begins to rise in approximately five minutes.”

Thor steps closer to the window, to the delicate glass that serves as a barrier between them, and this close, he has a better view of the wound he caused the creature. The burn starts on the corner of his right eye, spreads over some of his cheek, and stops a little ways above his chin.

The vampire is beautiful, with hair dark as the night sky itself, eyes dark crimson, and skin like porcelain. The injury does nothing to detract from the air of elegance that seems to emanate from him.

Thor surprises himself with this thought, but he does not deny it. “Then you better find somewhere to hide before the sunlight catches you,” he tells it.

He’s being merciful this way. The creature should be thankful that Thor isn’t impaling his chest instead.

“You’re cruel,” the vampire says, and he sounds vaguely amusing.

“You are of the race that murdered my entire family,” Thor returns, and draws the curtains shut.

 

. . .

“Let me in,” says the vampire waiting outside the window.

“You again?” Thor grunts, a little irritated.

“You are the one who keeps leaving your curtains opened.” The creature is grinning.

“I shall ardently shut them every night, then.”

Thor has taken hold of the satin when the vampire speaks out: “I almost died last night, you know. Had a nasty cut on my shoulder, although I think it was too dark for you to see. Otherwise you would have let me in and helped me.”

“It’s a pity you _didn’t_ die.” But there’s no real malice in his voice. Thor studies the vampire’s face, moving past blood red eyes to take in angled cheekbones, sharp nose, and (soft-looking) lips. The burn is already half-healed, and Thor reckons it will be a matter of hours until it has completely disappeared.

His gaze trails down an elegant neck, to prominent collarbones half-covered by a thin black shirt. The outline of the vampire’s left shoulder is bulky, and Thor can imagine the bandages the must have been underneath.

“Well, aren’t you a bitter little human,” the vampire muses. “What have I ever done to wrong you?”

For Thor, it’s the last straw. He does not gratify the creature with a response and yanks the curtains shut, pretending not to hear any more of the vampire’s words as he leaves the room.

 

. . .

“Let me in,” calls the vampire, and despite Thor being unable to see him, he imagines that his position is the same: sitting on the wide sill.

Thor is sitting at his desk, writing a letter that he will have delivered to his friend Steve. He doesn’t look up from his paper.

“No?” the vampire asks. “All right, then. At least tell me why you’re so hostile?”

This time, Thor does answer, mainly because he is tired of dealing with the other man and perhaps if he finally gives him an answer, he’ll go away. “Two years ago, a vampire killed my mother and my brother. My father tried to save them, but he was too late. In the end, it was only me and him.”

He takes the silence as a cue to keep going. “And it’s been like that ever since, until three months ago, when one of you bloodsuckers got a hold of him, too. So, yes, I apologize if I don’t exactly warm up to you - you’re all murderers.”

There is still silence. Thor pauses in his writing and puts down the pencil, listening for any sounds, wondering if the vampire has finally left.

But the reply eventually does come: “That’s a rather harsh judgment, don’t you think?”

“It is _my_ judgment,” Thor says.

“Still harsh.”

“Would you prefer that I go out there, tie you up, and then leave you in the middle of the sidewalk until morning comes?”

“Kinky.” The voice laughs.

Thor clenches his fist, and the pencil snaps in half by accident. “You doubt I will do it.”

“I _know_ you won’t do it. Otherwise I would be a corpse right now, wouldn’t I?”

Thor rises from the desk to open the curtains, almost ripping it off entirely. He is greeted by a smirking face, one that, if on anyone else, would have made Thor want to shoot them there on the spot.

“My name is Loki,” the vampire says, out of nowhere.

Thor goes still.

 

. . .

It’s like this: his brother’s name was Loki. He taught Loki how to ride a bike, how to spell his name, showed him around on his first day of school. He told Loki that there weren’t really monsters under the bed, slept next to him whenever there was a thunderstorm, explained why people wished on shooting stars. He assured Loki when the younger brother dared to kiss him, told him it was all right, cupped his chin gently and kissed him again.

Thor loved Loki.

He woke up to see his brother’s body on the floor, pale and contrasting sharply against the pool of red beneath him, almost like a bloody halo.

“I will avenge you,” he murmured against his brother’s cold cheek, while his father was turned away and busy checking on his mother. Then, a sentiment: “I love you.”

 

. . .

He remembers this all with a heavy heart.

Loki stares at him, watches him. Thor searches the creature’s face for any traces of familiarity.

He sees things he hadn’t before, like the way the vampire’s eyes gleam with mischief; how the smirk is so fitting, stretched over his lips; how those raven strands of hair seem like they would be soft to touch. For a terrifying moment, Thor does find semblance of his little brother.

He shuts the curtains.

 

. . .

_Thud._

Thor’s eyes snap open.

“Let me in,” croaks the vampire on the other side of the window, and following the words is a second thud.

Thor sits up in the bed, listening for more, but there is only silence and nothing more. He gets out of bed, this strange feeling creeping up his stomach, and opens the curtains, for once hoping he will be privy to that crimson gaze.

But there is only the tree outside.

(The strange feeling is panic. It blooms in Thor’s chest as he cranes his head, peering into the night, but it is much too dark to see anything. There is a hand print on the glass. He doesn’t need light to know that it’s blood.)

He finds himself ripping off the front door’s barricades and stumbling outside without so much as a weapon, Loki’s name rolling off his tongue in a single, desperate call. “I give you permission!” he adds. His voice cracks.

There is no sign of Loki.

 

. . .

“I almost died,” says the vampire perched on his bed, “again.”

The books slip out of Thor’s hands and clutter to the floor. He stands in the doorway, dumbfounded at the sight of Loki splayed languidly across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He has no injuries - at least, none that Thor can see.

“What are you doing here?” Thor has to force the words out of his mouth. He abandons the books and grabs a knife from the desk, wielding it defensively. He pretends his arm does not waver.

“You gave me permission,” Loki says easily. He tilts his head, something like a smile pulling at his lips. “Or were you inebriated last night?”

“You weren’t there,” Thor says accusingly, not putting the knife down. “I searched.”

“You didn’t look hard enough,” Loki retorts. “I fell and was unconscious until ten minutes ago. Thankfully, the tree shielded me from the sunlight.”

“What are you doing here?” Thor repeats.

“You gave me permission,” Loki repeats as well, except now he sounds exasperated. “Although I’ll admit I didn’t know that, until I put a hand on your window and _didn’t_ get burned.” He turns, sees the knife. “Put that down. I have no intentions of hurting you.”

“Why do you keep pestering me, then?” Thor lowers the blade and moves to the window, checking to make sure there is no one else before pulling it shut. He turns back to Loki, expectant.

“Tell me about your brother,” Loki requests instead, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

“I loved him,” is all Thor says. (To be honest, he isn’t sure what else to say.)

Loki looks at him once more, and the crimson fades from his eyes, replaced by emerald. “Do you still?” he asks, voice soft.

Thor’s breath hitches. “Loki?”

He moves towards the bed, and Loki simply watches.

(But inside, he already knows. This is the boy who had hugged him tightly for teaching him how to ride a bike, the boy who never really grew out of his fear of thunderstorms, the boy who pointed out that shooting stars were actually just meteorites burning up, the boy who had blushed and stammered and tried to apologize after he abruptly leaned up and kissed his big brother on the lips.)

(This is Loki.)

“Do you still?” Loki asks again.

Thor reaches down to cup a pale cheek. “I’ve never stopped.”

 

. . .

“I thought you would not recognize me.”

“How would I ever not?”

“I’m one of them now. I kill to survive. I can kill you right now, if I wanted.” The words are hushed and tinged with desperation, spoken into the skin of Thor’s neck.

“But you won’t,” Thor tells him, and it’s almost like a promise.

“How are you so sure?”

He smiles, mirrors familiar words: “Otherwise I would be a corpse right now, wouldn’t I?” And he leans down and kisses him.

Loki’s lips are cold. It only makes Thor want to warm him up.

He maneuvers himself atop the younger, pinning a slender wrist above his head. “I won’t lose you again,” he swears.

Loki’s fingers run down his chest, light in touch, mapping out every dip and curve of muscle until he reaches the buckle of Thor’s belt. “Seal it with a kiss?” he says with a smirk.

Thor kisses down his jaw, then to the nape of his neck. Whispers there: “How about a bite?”

 

. . .

When he next wakes up, Loki is sound asleep in his arms. His body is warm.

The first thing Thor does is reach up to feel his own neck.

 

. . .

“Let me in,” says the vampire waiting outside your window.

There is another standing beside him, smaller and frailer in figure but certainly not weaker.

Between them, their hands hang clasped, fingers intertwined.

They look almost like lovers.


End file.
